


The Miscellaneous Adventures Of A Small Communist

by paranormalnerd



Series: No one is sure if this adoption is legal [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: All sorts of fun stuff, Angst, Astraphobia, Dogs, Fire, Gen, Gore, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, I mean, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Its kind of ambiguous because it's not entirely legal but shush, Kid!Tord, Kids eating things they're not supposed to, Missing Kid!Tord, Mostly hurt though, Panic Attacks, Parent AU, Possible adoption, Practically no comfort, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, Starvation, actually everyone in the main crew's a kid, autocannibalism, cursing, dumpster diving, that probably describes it better, there's no cutting so it's not like that, this was a harmless au but then
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-29 22:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10145540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranormalnerd/pseuds/paranormalnerd
Summary: Turns out running away isn't as fun as Tord would've hoped.





	1. fuk u I'm leaving/raccoon boi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SingingSinBin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingSinBin/gifts).



> an au my friend singingsinbin and i came up with, that I decided to write out. I'm so sorry, this is horrible get ready for the Angst Train™

Movies definitely got the idea of children running from home wrong. In movies and even books, when someone ran away it was dramatic. Usually the middle of the night after a rather drawn out argument, most of the time with a suitcase full of their precious belongings and a stolen credit card. The same person would be dressed to blend in, dark clothing and what have ya. Rain often framed the scene, perfectly enunciating the characters intentions.

This scenario was the exact opposite with Tord.

Tord had a bright red shirt on, and dark gray long sleeves covered his arms. He was wearing shorts, that honestly looked a bit big on him, as well as velcro tennis shoes and mismatch socks. Tord’s hair definitely stood out as well, in a memorable two horned fashion. A bright blue bandage was stuck to his cheek, and a matching one covered his left knee. He didn’t carry much, just a half empty juice box with a bent up straw.

Tord also hadn’t left in the middle of the night. It was mid-afternoon, shortly after most people had lunch. It was a Saturday, and a sunny one at that. No big fight had broken out between him and his parents, in fact, they hadn’t been home all day. But here Tord was, calmly walking away from his house, sipping a juice box. He didn’t plan on coming back.

\----

Paul and Patryck were just in town for the next two weeks. An undercover mission for Red Army, in which they needed to stay low and find out if a nearby gang was getting ahold of their weapons and illegally selling them off. The two would be positioned in a beaten up house two blocks from the supposed trade area was, on the outskirts of a suburban neighborhood.

Ironically, this was nowhere near Tord’s house. It would take two hours driving in a car to get from their hideout to his home. This means these two points are over a day of walking apart. Please keep this in mind, as it is relevant to the future.

Two days after staking out the trade off area, Paul noticed something quite peculiar. Patryck had cooked ramen for lunch, not exactly romantic, but still good. Halfway through his bowl, Paul thought he had seen someone peering through their kitchen window.

He was probably just being paranoid.

But, there it was again, out on the windowsill. A small flash of something red, and then nothing.

Paul got up, walking towards the kitchen, he peered out the window and didn’t see anything outside. So maybe it was just a bird?

He shrugged it off and sat back down next to Pat.

The same day, shortly after Paul had taken the trash out, he had taken that night’s shift watching for activity at the trading post. He had only been up for a few hours when one of their trash cans from out front rolled down the driveway. Paul stared at the knocked over trash can, when a small thud, followed by a quick clang of metal sounded out from the side of their house. Paul sighed, going to grab a broom. Fuckin’ raccoons.

Trudging outside in nothing but a shirt and some boxers, Paul armed himself with a broom, ready to chase away any animals that got into their trash.

At first glance, Paul thought it was a raccoon. Two dark spikes that vaguely resembled cat ears poked out from inside the waste bin. Raising the broom above his head, Paul whacked whatever was inside.

Upon immediate impact, a high pitched yelp shrieked out from the bin, and it toppled over on its side. A small and rather familiar shade of red flashed from the bin and scurried inwards. Was it a cat? Paul didn’t think so. He crept closer, broom still in hand, and poked at the inside of the trash can with the handle.

More rustling, and a bit of hissing. So maybe this was a cat? Just to be sure, Paul gingerly grabbed the side of the trashcan and turned it towards him. As soon as it was facing him, Paul could see a small red lump in the back. The lump moved, and the face of a small kid was now staring at Paul with an odd mix of confusion, anger, and fear. The kid also seemed to be holding something in its lap. Paul had obviously been staring too long because the child repositioned itself so that they were blocking whatever was in their arms from view.

Paul smiled softly and beckoned for the kid to come out.

“Hey there, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The child made a face like they thought Paul was full of shit. They scooted further against the back of the trashcan.

“Come out, or I’ll get the broom again.”

Obviously, the kid got the message, because now they were scurrying out, and lying at Paul’s feet. Their hands were still covering something like they were trying to hide something from him.

“What do you have there?” Paul asked, helping the kid to their feet. Shit, they were small.

The kid embarrassingly looked at their- shoe? They only had one shoe on. What happened to the other?

Sheepishly, the kid pulled out an instant ramen wrapper. Some crumbs and dry noodles were inside. Paul was surprised, to say the least. He'd expected like, a gun or something. Not a nearly empty pack of-  _ oh _ . Oh.

The kid was starrily eyeing the pack, slowly, but rather happily munching on dry noodles.

“Are you hungry?”

The kid shook their head ‘no’, but their answer was betrayed by a sharp growl protruding from their stomach. They winced ever so slightly and looked up a Paul. Firmly shaking their head 'no’ again.

“Tell you what,’ Paul sighed, rubbing his temples. “You come inside and let me make you something to eat, and I won't call the cops.”

That definitely got a reaction from the kid, who's back immediately straightened up at the mention of policemen. They suspiciously eyed Paul, who was leading them towards a door. He gently nudged them inside and turned on the kitchen light.

The little kid was wandering around, still clutching their wrapper like it was life or death. Paul told them to sit down, which they didn’t, while he started heating up water. They liked ramen, so naturally, Paul was going to make ramen. While the water was warming, Paul looked over his shoulder at the kid. They seemed to be in a fighting stance like they were ready to run away and brawl at any given second.

“Do you have a name?”

They looked uncertain, like their name was some sort of classified information. Rather timidly, they opened their mouth to talk.

“Tord.”

Tord's voice was wheezy and high-pitched and had a very tired atmosphere.

“I'm Paul.”

Was Tord a boy's name, a girl’s name? Nonbinary? Paul wasn't sure. It was never polite to assume so,

“What pronouns do you use Tord?”

Tord looked at Paul like they had no idea what he was talking about, which they probably didn't. Tord was like, what, four?

“I'm a boy.”

Okay so maybe they-  _ he _ , did know what Paul was talking about.

Paul added in noodles to the boiled water on the stove. Tord was looking around the kitchen and seemed to be thinking deeply. It looked like he was planning an escape. Good thing the ramen was done. Paul plopped the meal into a bowl, then sat that on the kitchen table, along with a spoon.

Tord wide-eyed the bowl, tentatively stepping closer until he practically threw himself into a chair, making grabby hands at the bowl. Paul slid the food closer to Tord. As Tord grabbed it, the man noticed how he seemed to have rather bruised and bloodied hands, scabs covering almost every inch of space. He was missing a few fingernails as well, while the remaining nails looked to be severely shortened. The scene made Paul wince.

Now that Tord was so close, Paul could properly see the younger boy. His red shirt was stained and faded, and his shorts didn’t fare much better. Tord had a bruise on his right cheek, and a fading black eye to match. He looked tired, the point made by the dark blue bags under his eyes. Tord’s unusual two horned hairstyle was messy and long, resting in front of his eyes. Paul’s eyes darted to Tord’s feet. He was, in fact, missing a shoe.

“Hey Tord,” Tord looked up, still stuffing ramen in his mouth. “Where are your parents?"


	2. old people are scary

Tord had run away weeks before Paul and Pat had come to town. His first idea was to just walk as far away as possible, but this proved to be difficult when his feet got tired after half an hour of walking. Also, he ran out of juice ten minutes ago, so it wasn’t fun anymore. Near the front of his neighborhood there was a community park, where Tord decided to take a break. The enclosed tunnel was always his favorite because it was high up, and it meant he could climb inside and hide, or climb on top and freak everybody out. Either way, it was his favorite spot.

Today, Tord lay inside the tunnel, his feet pulled close to his chest, listening to the sound of cars drive by. It was somewhat relaxing. Well, relaxing enough that his eyelids were growing heavier by the minute. Tord didn't care that it was midafternoon. He fell asleep right then and there, curled up in a plastic playground tunnel.

Hours later, he woke up with the rough feeling of a hand grabbing him from behind. Tord’s eyes shot open and he darted out the opposite end of the tunnel. A burly man was behind him, and he was wearing some kind of gardeners uniform. The man opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but Tord ran before he could. Actually, Tord ran about four feet and then jumped off of the playground set, the height not fazing him. He landed on all fours and started sprinting away. Far from whoever was trying to get him.

This time, he made it farther into the city. Tord knew it was the city because of the car's, what other place would have so many cars? Tord honest to gosh didn't know. At one point, he took a break to sit on a bench, which turned out to be a bus stop.

Tord found himself blindly climbing on a bus a few hours later. After sitting down, he realized he didn’t know where he was going. Not that he cared. Anxiously, Tord played with the hem of his shirt. An older couple glared at him, like he had no right to be there, as if his presence was tarnishing their day. The older man stared at him, eyes narrowed. Tord returned the gesture. He had to stand his ground. The pair stayed like that, eyes locked in place, until the older couples stop was called and they had to get off. Tord remained seated, but his eyes trailed the man as he faded away from Tord's field of vision.

Eventually, the bus reached its last stop, and to put it lightly, Tord was kicked off. Or, more accurately, he was thrown off rather harshly, by a very mad bus driver, upset with him for hitching a free ride. Tord picked himself up from the pavement he had landed on and took a look around. He didn't recognize anything. Good. He picked a random direction and started walking.

By the time Tord stopped, it was very late and very dark. He didn't know how far he had walked. He didn't know the time. Maybe this was a bad idea, Tord told himself as he leaned against a lamp post. Well, it was too late now.

Despite getting a bit of sleep earlier, Tord was still exhausted, and as he recalled the day's events, he sank to the ground, practically asleep.

And then as Tord reached the floor, the sound of police sirens startled him awake. He was up, and he was running. The policemen might not even be after him, but Tord didn't care, he was running the heck away from there. There was a dog park nearby, the fence was outlined by moonlight in the distance. Tord saw this as an advantage and dashed closer to it.

The police were not chasing him originally. One officer was simply doing night watch. As the police car had turned the corner, sirens on, of course, his headlights illuminated the outline of a small boy. The policeman planned to pull over and ask if he needed help, but then the kid bolted. This only raised suspicion, so, the officer trailed him.

Tord didn't know this.

He made it to the chain link fence, which towered over him by a quite a few feet. Tord launched into action, steadily climbing the fence. Sirens rang in his ears, he hurried up faster. His shoe was caught in the top. He couldn't get it out, _get it out,_ _get it out._

Tord yanked his foot, and toppled to the ground, face first. His chin hit a rather unpleasant pile of dirt, and he bit his tongue, but that didn't faze Tord. He got back up, and ran into the park, with only one sneaker. Tord reached the center of the park and discovered a very large oak tree. Not missing a beat, he scrambled up the trunk and sat on one of the higher up branches. Clutching the trunk, he wrapped his feet around it as if it were giving him a piggyback ride.

Meanwhile, the officer had lost Tord and drove past the dog park. Maybe, if he had paid closer attention, the policeman would have seen a little boy's sneaker, gently tucked in a notch at the top of the fence, lightly illuminated by his headlights in the dark.

Tord didn't fall asleep again that night. He was too paranoid, rushing off adrenaline and jumping at the sound of leaves rustling. He was jittery far into the morning, and late afternoon. It wasn't until a dog came close to his tree, did Tord actually snap out of it.

It was a little dog, a dachshund, and it was sniffing the base of the tree. The dog sniffed higher up, until it made eye contact with Tord. It growled, and Tord hugged the tree tighter. The dog barked at him, and Tord glared at it.  Letting out another bark, Tord let go of his tree, carefully balancing on the branch he was sitting on. He cupped his hands to his face, and let out a loud 'bark’.

The dog looked confused, and Tord barked at it again. He kept barking until the dog tucked its tail between its legs and walked away.

Tord was the alpha dog now.

\---

At one point, a day or so later, an old lady entered the park with an armful of groceries and walked past his tree to a nearby bench. She put her groceries next to her and brought her purse to her lap. A small Yorkie poked it's head out, and the woman attached a leash to the dog's collar. The Yorkie jumped out of her lap, and she led it away from the bench, abandoning her bag of groceries.

Tord didn't originally plan to get out of his tree, but he could just see the top of a peanut butter jar poking out from the old lady's bag, and he was pretty hungry. His stomach gurgled in agreement, encouraging him to steal the jar.

Crawling down the tree while the lady and her dog were distracted, Tord snuck over to the bag and put his hand inside. With a small yoink he pulled out the jar and clutched it to his chest. Smiling to himself, Tord turned around to go back to his tree.

An old and frail hand grabbed his shoulder, nails digging into his skin. Tord yelped, turning around to face a very pissed old woman. She scowled, like he was a stain on the bottom of her shoe. Yanking the jar from Tord's hands, she clicked her tongue. Tord dared to make eye contact and was greeted by a firm backhand to the face.

He shivered after the contact, hands trembling. The old lady made a high-pitched 'hmph’ noise and tossed the peanut butter at his feet. Turning her face, the woman left with the rest of her groceries and her dog, leaving Tord standing exactly where he was before, shaking like a leaf.


	3. /Fire/ Comes In Quite /Handy/

 

Much like most other people, Tord wasn't exactly in favor of starving. He tried not to catch people’s attention as he quietly snuck around the park, but let’s face it, he didn’t exactly fit in. Therefore, stealing food was hard. Tord was running out of options, and patience.

One morning, Tord woke up with a grand idea, why not just eat the dog food? Dogs ate it, and they seemed happy enough, so why doesn’t he just go over to the center of the park, and steal some of the free dog treats.

Turns out they didn’t taste nearly as bad as he thought they would. In fact, he kind of  _ liked  _ the dog treats. Certainly better than wadding up and swallowing another ball of wet newspaper.

Although the dog food worked for a while, apparently it wasn't a suitable replacement for human food, because Tord still often felt that pang of hunger in his stomach. 

He was sitting on a bench today, bored out of his mind since dogs mostly avoided him, as well as people these days. Tord had already cleaned out the food for now, and since they refilled it every few hours he still had a while to wait for a second helping. If he was extremely lucky, some unsuspecting person might drop a book, or a bag of chips, or maybe even some groceries, and he could eat that. He could always eat the grass, but Tord found the park plants to be particularly gross for whatever reason.

Before he realized what he was doing, Tord found himself rigorously chewing at his nails. He was never really a nail biter before, so this was kind of strange, yet he didn't stop. Moving from his thumb to his index finger, Tord bit down hard. It hurt, but for whatever reason, he didn't stop. His fingers grew pink, then red as Tord peeled of small layers of skin. He didn't truly realize what he was doing until he noticed another little boy looking at him with a face of utter disgust.

Tord pulled himself away from his finger to stare at the boy, who he noticed had bright orange hair, before jumping off the bench and onto all fours. He barked, and the ginger boy ran away.

He caught himself biting at his hands again later that day.

\---

Tord had no problem with rain, he loved it actually, and this was no exception. The rain had started a few minutes ago and as Tord sat in his usual tree, eating a nearly empty bag of chips someone dropped, he eyed the light drizzle. A little over two weeks he had spent in that dog park, and the weather had been fine for the most part. Today was the exception, and the foggy air was cool against Tord’s cheeks. He was pretty fond of the cold, liked the way it nipped, but as the rain picked up, so did the cold, and it’s not fun to be wet in the cold. Leaning against the tree trunk and swinging his legs, Tord finished off his chips and let the bag fall to the ground.

Despite having a normally high resistance to the cold, Tord shivered. Water soaked his clothing, the wet material sticking to his back. It was uncomfortable sure, but where else was he going to go? Some thunder rumbled in the distance, and a great white light flashed over a nearby building.  _ Cool. _

The rain was coming down harder now, shifting more into storm territory. The thunder picked up, and dark clouds loomed over the dog park. A quick current of electricity was sent into a nearby power line, causing a small bounce of white light to jump out. The cord snapped, and the lines sparked. A fire was emerging now. Just a small one, but still a fire. The rain poured, drowning the fire in water. Which of course, didn't help since this was an electrical fire. Instead, the fire sparked, and another bolt of electricity shot upwards. The fire exploded into a mass of yellow and orange, furiously growing, and moving down the now collapsed power line. 

Despite the impending doom, Tord remained immobile in his tree. The thunder roared against his ears, and he stayed still.

Suddenly, in a quick and loud flash, a bolt of lightning hit his tree. The initial shock was enough to throw Tord to the ground, while electricity ripped at the trunk. Tord could smell burnt rubber.  _ He couldn't see, _ his vision was spotty.  _ He couldn't hear, _ his ears were ringing. The tree was on fire now.  _ He felt the heat _ . Fire surrounded the park,  _ it burned _ .  _ He couldn't breathe,  _ the smoke was too thick.

Tord coughed, throwing himself up from the ground, his head hurt, and his body felt heavy. Frantically looking around, Tord clambered to his feet, trying to get air. Black smog made its way into his throat, and his eyes burned. Fire heat was right up against him now, it was too hot. Tord’s legs trembled as he took a step forward. He collapsed to the ground, arm covering his mouth as he coughed. Tord got up to his knees, inhaling ash in a desperate attempt to recover. A glowing branch fell next to him sending up sparks. Thunder screamed at him from overhead. Tord shakily found his way up, and regrettably, tried running away. It was hard, the wind whistled in his ears and fire licked at his feet. His sock was burning through, and his clothes were singed.

As Tord made it out of the dog park, he found himself a nice curb pocketed into the street, and promptly passed out for the rest of the evening.

\---

When he did wake up, his head hurt, and his body was sore. The outdoors was wet, and Tord's clothing was damp. Blinking slowly, it took a minute for him to regain his bearings. Tord stretched his back, then crossed his legs and shifted his position on the curb. He didn’t wanna get up. Maybe he could just lie back down in that puddle and sleep? That sounded fun.

Tord noticed that he was very wet, in fact, everything was very wet. Droplets splashed onto his face head and rolled down his face. It was still raining. Raising his shoulders, Tord buried his face in his arms. It was gonna be a long day.


	4. Pizza Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anybody catches the chapter title reference I'll cry with happiness

If anyone asked, Tord would’ve said he stumbled upon the nice little neighborhood on accident and purposely decided to seek shelter in this abandoned dumpster. However, if he was being honest, Tord had known about this neighborhood’s existence and followed someone carrying three pizza boxes all the way to their home, in hopes that they would drop some. Or more accurately, in hopes he could steal some. The mysterious pizza harborer didn’t drop any, much to Tord disappoint, but they did put the boxes down for more than two seconds to fumble with a pair of keys to their house. Tord knew this was his chance right away, and skillfully managed to steal a slice.

But then the crushing guilt of what he was doing crashed down on his stomach and he put it back. Then within two milliseconds Tord realized just how desperate for food he really was, and re-stole the pizza.

Or maybe, y’know, an entire box.

So much for feeling guilty.

Of course, he only got so far when the original pizza owner saw what Tord was doing and started chasing after him. This was how he accidentally stumbled upon an empty, abandoned dumpster tucked into the back of the neighborhood playground, where he spent the last thirty minutes feasting on pizza.

In the back of his mind, Tord knew he should save some of it for later. His stomach, however, had other things planned and forced him to eat six out of ten slices. It felt good to eat as much as he wanted.

Of course, Tord can never have nice things. So a few minutes later he was covered in his own vomit. He couldn’t stop it from happening, it was a simple lurch of the stomach and then bile was spewing out of this mouth. It got on his already dirty shirt, and the dumpster floor. Expecting it this time, Tord leaned over and hurled up the second wave. And the third. And fourth. By the fifth he had nothing left to throw up, so he spent fifteen minutes coughing up mucus and dry heaving.

Next time he ate the pizza, he barely ate half a slice. Even still, the pizza only lasted half a week. Ironically, this was around the same time another thunderstorm rolled in.

Naturally, after the epidemic at the dog park, Tord was no longer fond of lightning, or thunder. The rain was a little unsettling but still fine compared to a full on storm. His minor fear turned into a full on phobia after spending a night in the rain in that dumpster.

It was dark, and cold, and loud. He felt like he was running out of air. Each thunderclap echoed ten times over in the dumpster, ringing in Tord’s ears, while lightning absolutely made him scream, having no warning of when or where it would strike.  _ What if the fire came back? What if he was stuck here, burned alive in the cold, all alone and scared?  _ He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t breathe. This was too much. The tiny metal box had a small crack in the top that let light leak in, but apart from that, it was pitch black. Tord was terrified. He jumped at every noise, well after the storm. He was shaking. He wanted an adult- no. He was out here because of adults. Tord wanted a friend. He wanted someone to keep him safe, and despite hating himself for thinking it, he wanted a hug.

Long after the storm ended, Tord was still on edge. Wiping what was definitely not tears off his cheeks, Tord peeked out of the dumpster at the now sunny outdoors. Maybe he could explore a bit, find some new place to hide, or get food.

Tord nibbled on his finger, as he jumped out of the dumpster, looking out at the empty playground. He sat down on one of the swings, minding his own business and still biting his hand. A group of boys had entered the park now, followed by a tall woman with brown hair. The trio ran off, jumping from playset to playset so fast it made Tord sick just watching. One boy, wearing green, made eye contact with him at some point, to which Tord responded to by biting down on his thumb nail, ripping it off. The green boy pointed at him with the other kids now, and they huddled in a small circle before breaking apart, and coming over to bother him.

Tord bit down on his hand again, drawing blood this time.

“Hi there! I’m Edd,” Green,  _ Edd, _ introduced himself, then pointed at a slightly taller boy with weird spiky hair, as well as weird black eyes and bright blue overalls, clutching a teddy bear. “That’s Tom, and-”

“I’m Matt! We met awhile ago at the dog park, you barked at me.” A vaguely familiar ginger was smiling at him. “What’s your name?”

Tord didn’t respond, he instead continued nibbling at the back of his hand.

“Your hands look bad.” Matt commented. Tord really didn’t like this Matt kid.

“If you tell us your name we can all be friends!” Edd said, smiling. “Than maybe we can band-aid your hands.”

Tord considered it briefly, after all, he had wanted a friend. Slowly taking his hand out of his mouth momentarily to talk.

“I’m Tord.”

“You sound weird.”

“TOM!” Edd hit Tom in the side, causing Tord to flinch.

The woman from earlier was walking over now, grabbing Edd by the shoulders. “Are you making friends sweetie?”

Edd smiled and nodded. “This is Tord, mum! Matt met him in a dog park.”

Edd’s mum smiled, for a moment, but frowned after looking him over. “You look awfully sick dear, are you alright?” Tord shook his head yes.

“He keeps eating his hands.” Tom whined. The mum paled this time, scanning Tord over again, this time paying even more attention to every defining detail in his face.

“Tord, do you need me to call someone? The police maybe?”  _ No, no police. _

Tord practically backflipped off the swing set, landing on all fours behind it. He clambered away, running as soon as he got the chance.

He wandered through the neighborhood, stumbling upon one street that particularly peaked his interest. Well, more specifically, the smell did. He could smell some kind of chicken and butter. It was amazing. Following his nose, Tord was led to a house next door, with its kitchen window open. If he stepped on his tippy-toes, Tord could see inside and noticed a man with the biggest eyebrows he had ever seen waiting at a small table. Another man, this one had smaller eyebrows and nice swoopy bird hair was stirring a pot on a stove, inside of said pot was what Tord could swear was a food he only ever saw in anime.

_ Ramen. _

The bird-wings-for-hair man emptied another pack into his pot, and Eyebrows glanced over at Tord, who hid from sight until he was no longer looking.

“You want the scraps?” He asked the eyebrow-man, who shook his head no. Birdwing man dumped two packets of ramen bits into the trash. Tord eyed the trash for a bit and jumped away when caught the eyebrow man looking over at the window again.

Were they just throwing out perfectly good ramen?


	5. Return of the Vomit

Tord stuck close to that house. He waited for one of them to take out the trash and then set out on his mission. He clambered into the bin, looking for the discarded packets of ramen. Although Tord could probably find better food elsewhere, he would give anything to eat something that he often watched his favorite characters fawn over. Although it was dark, Tord managed to find one of the crumpled ramen wrappers amidst the garbage. He was just small enough to fit in the bin comfortably, which is where he began to eat his snack. Except Tord never really got around to that because he was whacked on the head by a broom.

He yelped, and accidentally kicked his legs, causing the trash can to knock over to the ground. Tord was jostled around a bit, landing closer to the opening. He scurried back in, hoping to hide as much as possible. Just as he thought he had been left alone, Tord was poked in the face with a broom handle. He hissed in response, naturally. Tord folded in on himself as the trashcan was spun around and turned upwards. After a moment, he dared to look up and found himself looking at those familiar giant eyebrows.

Eyebrow man stared at him uncertainly, like he was surprised to see a small kid in his trash. The man’s gaze had shifted views to stare at the packet Tord was clutching desperately. Without breaking eye contact, Tord hid it from view. It was his now.

Eyebrows smiled, which was suspicious to Tord because nothing funny had happened.

“Hey there, I'm not going to hurt you.”

What. Tord’s brows furrowed. Eyebrows must be pretty thick if he thought Tord was scared of him. Even so, he wasn't getting out of that bin so soon.

“Come out, or I'll get the broom again.”

Okay so maybe Tord was a little scared. Or maybe he just didn't like brooms. You can't judge him. Either way, Tord found himself at the man's feet, still clutching onto his wrapper.

“What do you have there?” Eyebrows asked as he helped Tord up.

Tord looked down at his feet, this is where he got mad at him, right? Eyebrows was gonna take his stuff and call the cops. Tord revealed what he was holding, and instantly sat in a pile of shame. When he saw that the man wasn't going to yell at him, Tord happily brought the packet closer, munching on some of the crumbs.

“Are you hungry?”

 _Yes._ Tord shook his head no, but his stomach growled at the possibility of food. He shushed it and looked back up at Eyebrows, re-shaking his head no.

Eyebrows sighed. “Tell you what, you come inside and let me make you something to eat, and I won't call the cops.”

No police. Tord’s attention shot up. _Please_ , no policemen. He hesitantly shuffled inside, eyes darting around. Tord wandered a bit through the kitchen, not exactly sure what to do with himself. Eyebrows said to sit down, and he didn't.

“Do you have a name?” The man asked, stirring a pot of water on the stove.

Should he tell him? Tord thought for a moment. Maybe he could trust someone else. Just this once.

“Tord.”

Eyebrows introduced himself as 'Paul’- Tord like 'Eyebrows’ better -and then asked some weird question about his gender. He was a boy. Duh, that's why he had those hair spikes. Male dominance.

As Tord looked around, he found eleven Tord-sized hiding spots and thirteen exits. He thought about ditching Paul while his back was turned, but then a hot bowl of noodles was placed on the table. Tord slowly made his way over, until his self-control was lost and he found himself practically hurling his body at the table. Tord sat down, making grabby hands at the bowl.

_Please._

Paul chuckled a bit and slid the bowl over to Tord, who was well aware he would vomit this all up later anyways, decided to make the most of it and _stuff his face while he can._

Ramen tasted amazing.

“Hey Tord, where are your parents?”

That was less amazing.

Tord awkwardly swallowed, then without breaking eye contact with Paul he opened his mouth to drone out an explanation.

“I killed them and hid their bodies under the floorboards.”

Tord's voice felt foreign in his own mouth. It had been, uh- a while? -since he had last properly used it. Paul was taken aback, and coughed so profusely Tord thought he was dying. Back to the ramen he went.

“Paul, what the fuck is going- _why is there a kid here?”_

Birdwing dude came in, absolutely livid at first, then softened at the sight of Tord.

“I'm Tord and that's Paul and he threatened to call the cops if I didn't come and eat and now he's dying I think.”

“Where are your parents?” The new man asked, gripping the doorframe tightly.

“Beklager, jeg snakker ikke engelsk.”

Fancy hair guy smiled. “Hvor er foreldrene dine?”

Tord was beaming, “You know Norwegian?”

“You know English?” The other man quipped back.

Paul had seemed to recover during this little escapade and was now moving to stand next to the other man with nicer hair.

“This is Patryck.”

Tord nodded, still smiling. However, his smile soon dropped as he felt a familiar sensation of needing to puke. Tord pushed back on the chair, causing it to topple to the ground, he jumped off and scampered past Paul and Patryck, down the hall they were standing in front of.

The second door he looked through led to a toilet, where Tord promptly emptied his stomach. At least he didn't have to sit in it this time.

In all the chaos, Tord didn't notice the two men race after him, finding him curled over, vomiting into their toilet.

“What the hell did you feed him, Paul?”

“A bowl of ramen! I- _shit_.” Paul turned his attention to Tord, who was now dry heaving a third and fourth wave of vomit.

Patryck had sat down next to the quivering boy, rubbing circles on his back. Tord had calmed down now and managed to force back any upcoming tears. He wiped his mouth with a torn shirt sleeve, sitting down on the ground next to Pat. Although he didn't want to admit it, it was nice to lay against something warm, while they offered comfort. The concept was foreign, but Tord liked it. He could feel himself falling asleep, which would have been a miracle in itself, but to no avail.

“How long since you've eaten anything, Tord?”

Although the question was stated softly, Tord still felt his eyes snap open, jolting himself awake. No sleep then.

Tord shrugged the question off, not exactly sure of the answer. He vaguely remembered eating the pizza, and some pretzels he nabbed earlier, but how long ago was that? Tord's perception of time had never been good, to begin with, heck he didn't even know how old he was- although he kind of remembered being about six? maybe seven? -but as of late, he really couldn't tell hours from days, and days from minutes. It felt like he had eaten something several hours ago, but in reality that could've been a week ago.

Paul took his silence as an answer.

Tord found himself being carried along the hallway by Patryck, until he was sat down on an enormous bed, which happened to be the comfiest thing ever. Tord was afraid of getting the sheets dirty, but Paul said it was fine. Patryck brought out a roll of bandages, gesturing at Tord’s hands. After a few rolls of gauze, they were safely covered, and Paul told him that if he wanted he could change. Tord wasn't sure what he meant, since he only had the one pair of clothes, but went along with it anyways. Paul handed him a large red- _thing_ and said that they would be in the hall if he needed them.

Upon further inspection, Tord saw that Paul had given him a bright red hoodie. Taking off his shirt, Tord slipped into the hoodie quite comfortably, although it was several sizes too big. He swam in the red fabric, absolutely bursting at the seams with happiness. Nobody had ever given him anything like this.

Tord lay back down, snuggly wrapping his legs around one of the pillows. He felt so safe. Tord was drifting off now, almost asleep for the night.

“We should get the authorities.”

_No._

His eyes immediately sprang open. Of course, this is what he gets for letting his guard down. He can't trust anyone!

Tord groaned, moving his body up. Above the bed was a small window, perfect for escaping Tords. He climbed up and out, and as Tord made his way back to the dumpster, he told himself that this was for his own good, and he didn't go back to the dumpster just because it was closer to the two he had almost befriended tonight.


	6. gee Tord why does your mom let you have two dads

Tord was outside when the clouds started to roll in. The low rumbling caught his attention immediately, and he snapped into action. He was originally dragging his feet behind, but at the promise of thunder, Tord’s pace quickened. Rain was starting to make its way down now, ever so slightly drizzling, dampening Tord’s clothing. Clouds darkened overhead, and a bright flash wrecked havoc on the sky. He jumped, scuttling farther down the street. Tord recognized this street address, he was almost there. Soon he would be dry, and maybe the noise and flashes would be blocked out.

He slid on the wet pavement at the next turn, running on slippery cement was  _ not _ a good idea in hindsight. Tord tripped, and came tumbling down, scraping his knee and hands. It didn’t faze him, he needed to  _ get away _ . The rain was pouring now, and as thunder slowly growled in his ears, Tord found himself on the doorstep of a familiar house belonging to the only people he was willing to trust in this situation, even if he hadn't seen them in, well, he wasn't exactly sure how long it had been. At least if they called the police, Tord would be away from the storm.

He rang the doorbell once, waited, and then pressed it two more times for good measure. Paul opened the door, surprised to see Tord anxiously standing in front of him.

The little boy was thinner than when he last saw him, and his hoodie was dirty, covered in everything from vomit to what Paul really hoped wasn't blood. Tord's eyes were wide, and looked almost sunken into his face because of the tremendous bags under his eyes.

“Can I come in?” Tord asked, trying to mask the fear in his voice. A clap of thunder resounded behind him, while lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the surrounding houses in silver and white light. Tord jumped, rushing at Paul, desperately wrapping his arms around Paul’s legs. He clamped on tight, looking for any kind of support or shelter available in the man.

“Please,” Tord whispered, his voice small, body shaking.

Paul was shocked by the sudden contact, but regained his train of thought quickly, and bent down carefully to offer support to the small boy. He gingerly lifted Tord, carrying him inside, while shutting the door behind him.

Patryck was in the kitchen, and when he saw Paul, Pat immediately moved closer to aid in helping with Tord. Another bount of thunder and lightning came crashing through, and Tord gripped onto Paul tighter. The trio made their way into the master bedroom, where they set Tord down on the bed. Tord curled in on himself, tears in his eyes, while Patryck laid down next to him. Paul grabbed a rather fluffy blanket from a linen closet nearby, and wrapped it on the boy in the middle. The two older men curled up protectively around Tord, who was still shaking, but graciously leaning into the comfort.

The storm rolled on, but as Tord found himself surrounded by warmth, he managed to something he really hadn’t done too well as of recently. He slept.

Or rather, he slept until about nine o’clock in the morning the next day, when Patryck gently shook him awake. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Tord shook his head no, sleepily rubbing his eyes and sitting upright. He was fine. The lady a house or so down usually threw out her dog's left over dinner around this time, so that was something. Patryck however, was less impressed and apparently determined on making Tord eat breakfast with them.

He was led into the kitchen where Paul was eating a stack of pancakes. “If you leave, what are you gonna eat for breakfast?” Patryck asked, smiling as if he'd won this battle.

Tord walked over to the kitchen window, where he could clearly see the older woman scraping dog food into a trash bin. He pointed at her.

Patryck was horrified. What the actual fuck happened to this kid so that he was willing to eat  _ dog food.  _ Dear god did he actually think he had to do that? Pat grabbed the boy, much to his protest, placing him in one of the kitchen table chairs.

Tord held his head in one of his hands, the other resting on his lap. Paul glanced up momentarily, noticing the rather worse for wear bandages on his visible hand. It looked like something had torn them, reopening the marks on Tord's hand. Patryck was fixing a bowl of plain oatmeal, afraid Tord would vomit up anything else, and Paul moved closer to the boy.

“Can I see your hands?” He asked softly. Tord sighed, wincing as he gave them to Paul to see. 

The bandages were shredded, but it looked more like someone chewed through upon further inspection. The edges surrounding the holes were red, which faded into pink as you got further down the hand. Each finger was completely visible, and rather bloodied, but Tord still had the same amount of fingernails as last time, so that was slightly better. Paul traced the wounds with his finger, carefully inspecting the dark purple bruises that looked like bite marks or hickeys, as well as the patches of bright red flesh, and missing skin. Tord's hands were an absolute mess. What was this kid doing?

Paul grabbed more gauze, taking off the old layers and reapplying new ones. Around the time he finished, Pat placed a small bowl of oatmeal in front of Tord, who looked hesitant at first, but was quickly shoving large spoonfuls into his mouth after a moment.

Hopefully he would stay for good this time.

\----

Tord did stay, and was, much to the dismay of Red Leader, brought back to the Base. Not for too long though, because after a few months they were transferred back to the same neighborhood.

For one of their days spent down in that familiar area, the trio had decided to go to the community park, where Tord pointed out his old dumpster, as well as where he had puked, and the old pizza box, which he found funnily enough was still there where he left it. With every story Patryck looked a bit sicker, while Paul kept making odd faces which looked like a weird mix between sadness and pity.

They had taken a break from story time to give Tord a little bit of time on the playground. He had sat on the swing set, kicking his legs gently back and forth.

“Todd!” Someone had tackled him from behind, causing Tord to stumble and fall face first into the ground in front of him.

“Matt! Get off of him!” The weight on his back vanished, and Tord could now get up and see his attacker. If he remembered the name correctly then this was going to get really intense really quick. Turning around, Tord faced Tom, Edd, and Matt all over again. The opposite three smiled brightly, well except for Tom, and Tord smiled awkwardly back.

“Hello again.”

Edd grinned harder, if that was possible. “Hi Tord! You look so much better.”

It was true, Tord’s bags had faded, and he almost completely got all his weight back, and his hands were healing up nicely, no longer coated in bandages. His clothes were new as well, a clean, fitted, red hoodie and some shorts. He felt better too.

“Thank you, I-”

“Who are your friends Tord?” Patryck had gently grabbed his shoulder in a reassuring manner, while Paul stoop next to him.

“This is Edd, Matt, and Tom.” Tord pointed at the two adults. “And they're Paul and Patryck.”

“Whoa,” Matt gasped. “You've got two whole dads!”


End file.
